Monthly Archives: September 2015

I often use the word “muse” when describing or inviting or invoking the power of music and dance and poetry. That music is a spirit leaves no doubt to me. Whether it is living or inanimate is arguably a tautology. The proof is in the vibes that manifest and empathiate you and i or you or i. I believe that whether or not you or i do not exist (and will not exist at some point in time), the muse continues.

Victor Wooten said the muse is feminine. I think so. Likewise, I believe God — simply (to me) a word I use only to communicate the concept (don’t assume i believe God exists or that my belief of who or what God is aligns with common or popular beliefs). God maybe by nature, a feminine in characteristics, despite what’s commonly published in the compilation typically called the Holy Book.

A thinking and intelligent person must consider the context and content of what we’re taught. If, then, God said “man” was made in his image, what is the image? The image, of course, is male and female. Thus, the contradiction of irrationality.

The bias is that the male image first occurred. That, however, is contrary to nature. At the cellular level, think “mitosis” and “meiosis.” Taking the latter scientific truth, one cell bifurcates into male and female components. At the macro-biological level (visibly male and female), birth is from the female component. Fertilization is, therefore, from motion of the male component joining the female component. Although fertilization must first occur, that which is to be fertilized must, by definition, have pre-existed that which is fertilized. Furthermore, at some initiating point in time, One must have split that was together.

The motion that created the split is the manifestation of what a person may consider God to be. I do not. Rather, the motion is created by the “emotion” is what God is to humankind: the unknowable whatever that caused the so-called “Big Bang.” After all, in science there is always cause that creates effect.

The problems between religion (ignoring the massive problems between religions) and science is a mere illusion. It is simply a matter of the epistemology. Simply put, it’s the difference between “knowing” and “believing.”

One can know what we call “fact” and one can know what we call “belief.” Knowing the difference is the distinction between superstition and reality. Religion typically rationalizes belief as knowledge.

The question of the muse emanating from religion cannot be ignored. The so-called Negro Spiritual, which has fueled the popular music of the day, came from those who were “born” in the Church. And, before that, the ecclesiastical music of the Baroque era, etc. manifested the muse in one form or another.

The muse, thus, manifests through the spiritual belief domain in a scientific manner, as does animal (and plant) life manifesting between the joining of male and female.

There is a spiritual world that does not obey the laws of the physical world. If you enter that world, time is different (if it exists at all). You know that to be the truth. Sometimes, time itself expands or contracts depending on your experience.

Under extreme stress, for example, time tends to appear to stand still or move slowly. When you have a good time and are in a state of enjoyment, time passes quickly, which is why you don’t want to stop having fun and amusement — a muse moment.

This evening I thought about my cousin, Alma Laverne. She is beautiful. And, as a child she suffered from asthma. Her mother, Octavia, was my most loved and enjoyable Aunt. If I needed a place to sleep, I’d choose her household — even if I had opportunity to sleep at her sister’s house, in a better part of Oakland on Shattuck Avenue.

You might wonder what this has to do with Eddie Harris’ Freedom Jazz Dance. Well, actually, nothing … except the thoughts of Octavia beating the asthma out of Alma, as the most effective therapy at hand, bubbled into consciousness.

I don’t think it worked, despite the adrenaline rush Alma experienced which seemed to make it go away. And, with my own eyes I witnessed the failure of that therapeutic method. That she survived is the evidence that at least one god exists. It’s actually evidence of the miraculous nature of life itself. And, somehow, somewhere a hot steaming pot with some funny smelling stuff seemed to kind of help her through it, better than the thrashings. It was not pleasant to witness, so I know feeling it was worse. Sometimes, inhaling on a hot towel didn’t seem to deliver that well, either.

That’s one of the reasons I have always loved Alma. I guess I can also mention that I was really in love with her sister, Bobby Jean, after Alma was born. But, that never worked out. She married a guy in the Army. I didn’t like him at first. But, at 11 or 12, what could I do?